


Before the Damned

by DevourAngels



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Death, Knifeplay, M/M, Violence, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 11:51:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17918252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevourAngels/pseuds/DevourAngels
Summary: Continuation of ' Hide and Seek'Can be read alone but you're gonna be a little lost.This is Dwight and Frank smut while Ace hangs on a hook and watches lmao





	1. Discovery

Ace wasn’t sure how long he’d been hanging there, amazed the Entity hadn’t shown up to finally finish him off. He was sure Daniel? David? Uhh Dwight! That’s what his name was. He was sure he was gonna come and figure this shit out so they could get the last two generators  up and get out.    
  
He was numb almost to the pain, each movement was leaving his body in a stinging throb he couldn’t fix because of the metal sticking through his flesh and muscle, he’d had his fair share of kicking and screaming but there wasn’t much it would do beyond put him in more pain. Playing it cool and calm would have to be the way to go; As unfortunate as it was.    
  
  
He hadn’t heard Dwight scream at all, only the screaming of Meg and the eventual disturbing hiss and thrum of the Entity dragging her corpse away to god knows where, the atheist was finally a believer, but not in God. Not by a long shot, whatever Evil this was, hell yeah he believed in it. He’d seen it, heard it, and was waiting for its disgusting embrace.    
  
He could hear the grass rustling, he couldn’t see exactly where it was coming from but he could hear it, the shuffling, soft speaking of little snide words that almost dripped in the air with anything, Sarcasm? Taunting? Blood hungry lust? Surely some type of commentary that no one asked for.    
  
  
He tried to make the most of his surroundings, the ever growing daylight that they’d earned and fought for, stagnant and sitting, waiting for a sunrise that if they didn’t move fast enough, they would never see.    
  
  
  
He could see the generator’s low thrumming, gentle popping occasionally, he’s never wanted to get his hands so dirty in his life. He wanted to get it running , not only to get the fuck out, but so he could tell Dwight about how he could do it  _ alone _ . He didn’t  _ need _ him but he’d made a good ‘Bait’. Other than that and the grass, his only view was a long, dirty table, and the scattered field and farming tools told him that once before all this bullshit, they probably sat neat and orderly on that very table.    
  
  
Unknowing that ‘Bait’ is exactly what Dwight was. His head stayed down, trying to count droplets of blood as they dripped off of his shirt and off his  watch and arm that hung uselessly in the air. Only raising when the voice got closer.    
  
Was that Dwight?   
Was he  **_talking_ ** _ to it _ ?   
  


Meanwhile, across the field before they’d ever moved closer, Dwight had been sitting on his knees before Frank, the mask had been adjusted but not removed, and if anything, looked more menacing in the shadow of the hood.     
  
**_‘Well, What do we have here?’_ **

  
The first words he’d heard after what he’d done in the locker and been caught, he cracked a weak, almost tired smile , showing bloody teeth from coughing up his blood a couple times.    
  
“Just me, Tag, you’re it.” He chuckled, just in time to get the side of a converse impacting his cheek, sending him with his pants down onto his chest onto the ground. The weight of that same shoe pressed to his upper spine, just between his shoulder blades, if his hips hadn’t landed just high enough, his dick would be rubbing mercilessly against the blood wet grass.   
  
“You probably shouldn’t have your pants like that -It really makes it difficult to run.”    
  
Frank hummed lightly after his statement and though he couldn’t see him, he knew the angsty fuck was probably trying to figure out how to get them off.  Dwight rolled his eyes , but didn’t respond, just slowly shifted his feet together, attempting to work his shoes off while Frank watched him, probably amused, he didn’t know.    
  
  
It took about 3 minutes but he got them off , and when Frank stepped off of him, he gathered himself up to his feet, shaky from the blood returning, but overall fine. He stepped out of his pants and boxers. Before Frank shoved him forward, when he rolled his eyes again he could practically feel the glare from behind the material of the mask.    
  
“What?  Mad I got at least this far?” He taunted before he got another shove. “Yeah, Yeah. I’m going.”    
  
With that, he stepped, half undressed, through the rough, scratchy weeds. Trying to ignore the fact that the cool breeze was making goosebumps crawl up his arms and thighs. He wandered his way, Frank in tow, towards the hook.    
  
  
He wandered as though still trying to capture him, he would duck away from Dwight, only to slink back into view, or somehow appear in the distance. How he moved so fast , he’d never know. He knew the hunter wanted only one thing out of the prey, and that was to install fear as the first method to the madness.    
  
  
“You’re not funny!” He called out, when Frank had vanished again, as he started to get closer to the clearing where Ace was hanging, nearly unconscious at this point. He raised his head only when the grass parted and Dwight finally came to view.    
  
  
“Dwight! There you fucking are, where the fuck have you be-... why is your dick out?!” He snapped , as though him bleeding out wasn’t the problem.    
  
  
Dwight went to cock his head, nearly forgetting when he leaned his arm against the table exactly what would happen, and sure enough, a gloved hand went straight for his shoulder, gripping tight into the wound enough to make him hiss from the new friction to the wound before he was shoved forward on the table.    
  
Ace’s words caught in his throat, as though silence would somehow keep Dwight from being stabbed to death, the cold metal of the blade, sticky with drying blood traced down the back of the man’s neck, paused,skipped over his shirt, before the tip grazed the flesh just above his ass, a little wiggly line to match the amusement of the whole setting.    
  
  
Yeah sure, ha ha dicks are out but now there’s a serial killer here looking like he’s about to serve Dwight to the Entity as a kebab via the ass.    
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty basic and short, but the next chapter is filthy so this is like the calm before the storm.

Dwight wakes up to flesh, burning and stinging flesh.   
He wasn’t sure what knocked him out, the blood loss, the possible infection, or the shock that Ace was gonna watch him get fucked.   
  
Sadly, a little too late to find out which one knocked him  under because he didn’t get the chance to ask. The burning happened in phases; The initial all-to-familiar feeling of stretching and the lost hope of ever convincing him that blood and saliva **_didn’t_** count as lube. How did this not cause his dick to rub raw in his insides anyway, or maybe Frank just didn’t care. Either way there wasn’t much of an option in the ways of comfort around here.   
  
In the zoned out state of unconsciousness  Frank had taken the initiative to :  
  
A. _Laugh at him_  
B. _Rid him of his shirt_  
  
And   
C. _Go ahead and start the show._   
  
  
  
Frank’s body was looming over his lower back, a shadow casting him in a more eerie dark than the night sky, the hook shadowed over them with Ace’s form hanging there, blood dripping down his chest and arms, droplets falling from fingertips into a little puddle onto the ground, no doubt a slow death of bleeding out was beginning it’s ever beautiful numbing process and he could even still make it an hour or so like this before he’d be down on the ground if he even managed to ever get free. Like a mouse in a cat chase, he knew Frank would let him crawl his way in an attempt to safety.   
  
But, For now, he was occupied.   
  
Occupied with a teenage pace of fucking like a rabbit, three, four thrusts before he’d pause and press _just a little deeper_ inside him. He’d take his time pulling out only to drive back into his guts, the skin slapping left a sticky reminder that Frank had an obsession with blood and spitting on any piece of flesh that wasn’t his own.   
  
Dwight’s eyes were blurry with tears from very obvious pain, this shit hurt, and fuck any fanfic or teenage heartthrob that makes it out to be beautiful and touching and painless. His glasses couldn’t correct vision unless he blinked hard enough to let salty tears gather in the corners of his eyes , only to slip past the weak resistance of his eyelashes.   
His lips, chapped, cracked, parted in just enough to allow oxygen in and grunts out. Breathless whimpers, and whining whenever he hit the worst spot or ground his thin frame against the rough wood of the work table, amazed splinters weren’t digging into his flesh.   
  
Not that he could tell anyways.   
  
His body was positioned over the work table, his shaking legs and lower back were positioned on the edge, his torso the only thing rocking the table with each motion.  His fingers curled, chewed on nails rubbing against the old wood, hoping he’d been out long enough that Frank’s fun was coming to an end.   
  
Probably not. Knowing his luck.   
  
  



End file.
